


The one with the dancing.

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: #SPNAdventCalendar2020 [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dancing, Day 12, Diners, First Kiss, M/M, POV Castiel, SPNAdventCalendar2020, Season/Series 15, The one with the dancing.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Castiel knows that this year, Christmas will be incredibly hard for Dean, given that the year before he was possessed by Michael, and now God was trying to destroy everything they had. Castiel wants to hold onto this, and he wants to hold onto Dean, too.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel
Series: #SPNAdventCalendar2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038141
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	The one with the dancing.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 12 of #SPNAdventCalendar2020 on tumblr by @bend-me-shape-me.
> 
> Prompt: the one with the dancing.
> 
> God, I had way too much fun writing this. I definitely based it off of Cockles slow-dancing in a diner with each other.

Sure, Castiel didn’t _really_ have money, but with Charlie’s proved and patented method of, according to Dean, “liberating money from assholes,” he’d illegally wired money into a fake account with the name _Sam Novak_. (Dean didn’t think the name was funny.) It seemed hard to keep up with these false identities, especially when there were larger, more important things to take care of, so really, Sam had wired the money for him. He’d told Sam he wanted to do something special for Dean since he knew Christmas would be exceptionally hard for him this year. After promising to keep a secret, he told Sam what it was. His friend just clapped him on the back and assured him that Dean would love it.

With the plan in mind, he’d told Dean that they had to go somewhere for a case, and he came up with a lie that Sam wouldn’t be going with them because of the stuff with Chuck. Dean, as morose as ever, hadn’t even fought with the point.

Actually, he hardly wanted to get into Cas’ truck.

The pain between them, they were working on it. They were back to holding each other, and Cas just staring and staring, unable to not see anything but how beautiful Dean was. He regularly felt Dean’s eyes on him as well. Castiel knew what he wanted to say to this one, perfect, glorious human, but he knew he didn’t reciprocate. Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t try to let him know how he felt.

When he pulled up to the diner, all the lights were still on. Though, there weren’t any cars in the parking lot. Good, just as Castiel had requested.

Dean climbed out of the truck, surveying the area. “Really? The case is right here?”

Cas tried to lie, and gave a very deadpan, monotone, “Yes.”

Dean frowned at him, and Cas started walking towards the diner, knowing Dean would follow on instinct.

“Dude, that was a terrible ‘yes.’ It didn’t even have any conviction.” Castiel was just nodding along with what he was saying as he opened the door, and led Dean inside. “When you’re lying, you gotta tell yourself that you believe it, and make the other person think you do.”

Castiel just rolled his eyes. Dean hadn’t turned and looked yet.

“What?”

So, Castiel took Dean by the shoulders and he forced him to turn around. Dean gasped at what he saw. The diner was empty, only a few lights lit to give the wooden, rustic interior a soft, pleasing aesthetic quality. Christmas lights were up around the room as well, all colorful, giving the room a beautiful glow.

Dean looked at the empty diner.

Cas looked at Dean.

“We’re not here for a case, are we?” Dean eventually surmised.

Castiel took his arm, and then dragged his hand down, till he was clasping questioningly at Dean’s wrist. He felt Dean’s pulse jump, and his friend looked down to where their hands were. He swallowed roughly.

With his other hand, Cas snapped his fingers in the direction of the jukebox sitting along the far wall. It lit up, and then the machine started playing. Led Zeppelin poured out of the speakers.

“Shall we?” Castiel asked.

Dean looked at him, eyes wide. Oh no, Castiel had messed this up. Of course, Dean didn’t want to. But he could _feel_ the end coming, feel it coming for all them, and last Christmas Dean had been possessed by the archangel Michael. Castiel just absolutely had to do one good thing for Dean before their end or it would tear him apart. It would be worse than his own actual death.

Dean again looked down to where their hands were nearly clasped, and then he was the one who slid his hand into Cas’ so that they fit perfectly. He squeezed, as if reassuring the both of them that this was real. Dean cleared his throat, cheeks pink, and pulled Castiel in to him. Cas was content with letting Dean take the lead on this. Besides, Castiel worried that if he took the lead he’d somehow become too intense, that he’d _show_ Dean how much he loved him, and he would do so rather violently.

That was what his love was like at times, and what it had been at first. Violent. Mostly because Castiel hadn’t really understood it. How was an angel supposed to love anyway?

As far as he knew, they weren’t. Yes, they were capable of having sexual desires, and Castiel was prone to those, even with the lonely nights without Dean. But to love? Surely it had been an impossibility, and yet, here he was.

For now, he relaxed as Dean put a hand at his back, going to take the lead. Castiel hesitantly put a hand at Dean’s waist.

Dean tensed at first, made some sort of rough grumbling that could’ve been words, but then Castiel looked at him, keeping his look entirely honest, and sincere. He couldn’t _tell_ Dean what he was feeling, but perhaps, in some way, he could show him.

Dean seemed to relax at seeing Castiel’s easy smile, and he started to lead them in a dance through the open area in the middle of the diner. It wasn’t a good dance. None of them really knew how to do it, but soon, they were clasping hands, arms in close to each other, their bodies touching together as they swayed to the music.

Then, Dean started doing a motion Castiel hadn’t anticipated. Though humans weren’t strong enough to move angels, he let himself be moved. He ended up in a spin, his overcoat puffing out in the air behind him. When he was pulled back in to Dean, they were both grinning.

“This is really nice, Cas,” Dean said as they drew even closer now, foreheads nearly pressed together.

“I wanted to do something for you,” he said. “Last year was… bad, for lack of a better word, and this year—”

Dean shook his head, biting his bottom lip. “No, don’t talk about it. Don’t—don’t ruin this.”

“Of course, Dean.”

They danced and they danced, the room seeming to fall away, and there was just the way they held each other.

They paused, Dean puffing air out through his cheeks, and Castiel could smell his exhaustion. After all, it _was_ very late at night.

Cas wanted to speak, wanted to let this feeling last forever, but he worried that if he spoke, the moment would break, it would reveal itself to be just another one of God’s deluded stories. It wouldn’t be real. Yet, he wanted to speak, wanted to open his mouth and share his heart with Dean.

To his surprise, Dean opened his mouth, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “You know, Cas, you’re the first person in years who’s been able to make me feel special. Like I—like I matter.”

“You do matter,” Castiel insisted.

Dean raised his eyes to Cas’.

“And that’s what I’m talking about. You’re there for me, even when—even when I don’t know how to be there for you. And god, Cas, I’m sorry. I am so, _so_ sorry.”

“Just be with me,” Castiel pleaded. “In this moment, right here. Just be with me.”

“Okay,” Dean replied. He took in a deep breath, and Castiel could smell the strength in his emotions, even as worry pulsed through them. He could smell a resolve coming through them, _sense_ that Dean had come to a decision of some sort. “Okay,” he said again, voice softer this time.

Before Castiel knew what was happening, Dean had pressed his lips to his. The kiss wasn’t a demand, or a profound releasing of emotions. It was a vulnerable question.

When Dean pulled back, all Castiel could do was stare, slack-jawed. Dean lowered his head, shaking it, cheeks all red.

“God, I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have done that.”

Dean loved him back.

“I’m sorry. Cas,” he continued rambling, “can you please—?”

Castiel grabbed the back of Dean’s head and pulled him into a kiss. He had wanted to be soft and slow with Dean, but even now, he could feel their time running out. There would be no soft and slow. In a matter of seconds in which they tried their best to learn each other, to _know_ each other, the kiss turned abrasive, desperate.

Dean had to pull back for breath, and Cas took the time to suck on his bottom lip before releasing it.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, words rough, filled to the brim with unsaid emotion.

Perhaps kissing Dean again would let them both tell each other those emotions, to do so with their bodies. Castiel wanted to, but for now, he just wanted to hold Dean, and let it sink in that he surely felt the same way. Castiel pulled him close, putting a hand to the small of Dean’s back, and they danced. They danced till the stars faded from the sky, and the sun spread dawn over the horizon.

They danced until they both knew that they loved each other.


End file.
